


I'll Find My Way (The Dream I See)

by roosterbox



Series: Stay With Me [3]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Charles Is a Darling, Dream Sex, Dreams, Emotionally Crippled Erik, Erik has Feelings, Erik is a Father, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Fluff, Ghost/Spirit, M/M, Romance, Soulmates, Tragic Romance, sort of, together at last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roosterbox/pseuds/roosterbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One day, and how much time she’d spent building the courage for this Erik had no idea, she asked him to read to her.<br/>Erik’s first instinct was to say no.  To fix her with his best disdainful glare and refuse for no real reason other than his own embarrassment.<br/>But then, he thought of Charles<br/>And to his surprise, he opened his mouth and said “Of course, liebchen.”</p><p>The conclusion of the <em>Stay With Me</em> series, in which Erik finds something that might be worth living for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Find My Way (The Dream I See)

**Author's Note:**

> At last, the final part is completed. And hopefully I'll never write something so emotionally wrenching for me ever again. I've had enough Character Death for the time being, thank you.
> 
> The timeline is a bit fudged, of course, but that's why they call it an AU. And Ororo/Kurt took me completely by surprise.

Against all odds, and certainly against his better judgment, Erik’s untouchable façade was slowly cracking

Life had been so much simpler when it had only consisted of eating (rarely), sleeping (occasionally), and dreaming of familiar blue eyes and red lips (frequently). But then, slowly but surely, somehow the children wormed their way into his heart.  Erik wasn’t sure how they’d managed, but was gobsmacked when he realized it.  Little Ororo was to blame; he was sure of it.  A little wisp of a girl when she had come to them, shy and a little withdrawn.  But an absolute talent as far as mutation was concerned.  It took several weeks before she was ready to open up to anyone.

Inexplicably she’d immediately felt comfortable around Erik. He’d had no clue whatsoever what to do with the child.  But she still stayed close.  She’d watch him read books from Charles’ massive library.  She’d watch him study the still-unfinished chess match in the bedroom, not understanding but remaining respectfully quiet.  She’d even occasionally bring his food out to him while he daydreamed at the edge of his and Charles’ field, and sit nearby; she never spoke about it, a fact he was constantly grateful for.

One day, and how much time she’d spent building the courage for this Erik had no idea, she asked him to read to her.

Erik’s first instinct was to say no. To fix her with his best disdainful glare and refuse for no real reason other than his own embarrassment.

But then, he thought of Charles.

And to his surprise, he opened his mouth and said “Of course, liebchen.”

And so began another of Erik’s rituals. Every few days, before he visited the field, he and Ororo would both go to the library, settle into one of the large armchairs therein (she’d place herself quite comfortably in his lap), and he’d just…read to her.  Sometimes his smoothly accented English put her to sleep.  Erik took no personal offense, but something stirred in his chest whenever she did.

Then Jean had come to them. Closed off and distant, but, in a sense, not really timid.  She and Ororo became best friends in short order.  They could often be found wreaking girlish havoc together, sometimes with Raven’s toddler son Kurt following behind.  The lad seemed a bit taken with Ororo, Erik was amused to discover.  Well, as ‘taken’ as a three-year-old can be, anyway.

One day, as Erik made his way through the mansion hallways, his usual haunt, his legs were assaulted by twin pairs of pigtails. _Raven must’ve done their hair this morning_ , he thought.  Both girls were laughing uproariously.  Erik had to bite back a genuine smile, much to his amazement.

“Come play with us, Papa-Erik!” Ororo said, tugging on his pant leg insistently. Jean was tugging on the other leg, nodding so hard her head was clacking.

“Not today, girls.” Erik freed his legs, turned on his heel, and headed back to the bedroom.  He didn’t have to turn around to know that both of them were trying to pout as hard - and as cute - as they could.

Instead, he tried to walk as steadily as possible back to Charles’ room (he’d never gotten truly content and complacent enough to call it ‘their’ bedroom) before his face betrayed the waves of emotions unfurling in his chest.

The door slammed shut and locked in one fluid movement. A few books were knocked down from the force of it.  No doubt at least some of the other mutants had heard it and would investigate.  Erik didn’t care.

_Come play with us, Papa-Erik!_

That child, that wonderful little mutant girl, called him Papa. Loved him enough to call him Papa.  How had this happened?  And why did that innocuous word make his chest feel like it was too small for his heart?  It was a feeling he used to only feel in dreams.  With Charles.  Thinking of the other man usually made Erik ache, but this time…he felt strangely at peace.  As if Charles knew what he was feeling, and was trying to encourage him in the only way he could.  For Charles’ sake, Erik knew what he had to do.

He opened the door, nearly throwing an eavesdropping Sean onto the floor.

“Oh. Hey, Erik,” Sean stammered slightly, red-faced at being caught.  Erik put on his best irritated scowl, even though this was the furthest from irritated he’d ever felt, and brushed past him.

He found the girls in the library, chessboard between them. The pieces were scattered haphazardly around the board.  Both girls were staring at it, neither having played a single chess game in their rather short lives.  They looked up when he came in, and smiled.

“Chess? This is what you wanted me to play?” Erik asked.  Ororo nodded enthusiastically.

“You know I don’t play this game very much any more, liebchen,” Erik started to say. On Ororo’s despondent look, he added “but perhaps I can teach you and Jean?”  Two brilliant smiles fixed upon him, and he found it impossible not to respond in kind.  He settled down into a sitting position next to them.

“First things first, Mädchen. This piece is called a ‘pawn.’

\-------

“You taught them…how to…play chess?” Charles panted out after collapsing onto Erik’s chest. In a dream such as this, breathing was a choice.  But Erik had learned recently to take pleasure from the simplest of things, like being able to fuck the breath out of Charles again.

“Of course I did, libeling,” Erik replied, only slightly more composed. Gently he lowered his legs from their place around Charles’ hips.  He kept his hold on the younger man’s shoulders though, not wanting him to pull out quite yet.

“What an amazing man you’ve become, Erik.” Charles tucked his head under Erik’s chin.  His fingertips lightly tickled the other man’s ribs.  “Or should I say Papa?”

They both chuckled. Erik didn’t think he’d ever get used to being called Papa.  And, thanks to Ororo’s influence, more and more of the younger students were doing so.  It was, in an odd way, comforting…and strangely natural.

“But,” Erik began, turning somber for a moment, “they should be calling you Papa.”

Charles raised his head to look the taller man in the eye.

“You were always the best of us, Charles.” Erik felt his words trying to get caught in his throat, but he forced them out.  This _needed_ to be said.  “You should be here, helping the children with their schoolwork, babying your nephew, keeping this safe haven running smoothly.”

“Erik-”

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Charles. My hands-” He raised them to his face, clenching them into fists, “-these hands were never meant to hold children.  To ease pain.  They’ve only ever caused it.  And despite everything,” he fixed Charles with a piercing look, “All I ever really think about is you.”  His voice broke on ‘ _you_.’  “These dreams, they-”

“Erik, enough.” Charles cupped the older man’s face in his hands. “You never give yourself enough credit.  You don’t now, and you certainly didn’t when I was alive.”

Erik winced but said nothing.

“What’s passed is past, Erik. Don’t continue to let Sebastian Shaw dictate your life or your choices.  You are amazing, kind, and the strongest person I ever had the pleasure to know.  This being you seem to think you are?  He’s not the man I fell in love with.”

“Charles…” Erik breathed. The other man shook his head softly.  He shifted slightly, finally pulling free from Erik’s body.

“These hands?” He grasped them in his own, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the knuckles. “They’re only meant to do what you want them to.  You control your own destiny, my friend.”  He smiled warmly.  It was a look that spoke of understanding, love, and…something else?  Erik’s returned grin turned wicked.

In one quick movement he flipped them around, settling between Charles’ now spread thighs. He wasn’t quite sure how much longer this particular dream would last, but he was determined to make the most of it.

\------

“Why do you keep going out to that field?” Ororo asked him one day. She was fifteen, and already a striking beauty.  Erik already had to threaten one not-quite-but-almost-boyfriend with grievous bodily harm if he even thought of touching her.

“What do you mean?” He decided to try and play coy.

She gave him a withering look, and captured one of his Knights.

“You know exactly what I mean. When I was ten I thought it was the flowers.  But they’ve been wilting for months now, and yet still you go to that field almost every day.”  Her eyes looked up at him briefly from the board between them.  “Check.”

 _I’m surprised she’s the first person to say anything about it, at least to my face_ , Erik thought. _How many years have I been doing this?_ He moved his King out of harm’s way.  While he deliberated about how best to answer, she continued.

“Does it have something to do with the picture in your bedroom?”

He glanced up sharply.

“The one of Professor Xavier?”

His eyes widened. “How did you-?”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes, you know.” She moved a pawn forward.  “And I heard you mention a ‘Charles’ once.  I asked Hank, and he said that was the Professor’s name.  Charles Xavier.”

Typical blunt teenager.

“So is that it?”

His first instinct was to lie, but Erik rarely followed his first instincts anymore. They were a relic of his past.  Of his time spent as a weapon, wielded with precision by a man he knew best as Schmidt.

“…Yes.” Gingerly, he rubbed at the graying hair on the sides of his temples.

“Were you close?”

“Very.” He moved his Queen.

“How close?”

“Close enough, liebchen.” He looked up from the board, a triumphant smirk slowly easing its way onto his face.  “Checkmate.”

Her brows furrowed with surprise, and she looked down.

“You improve each day, liebchen, but you still have much to learn.” He began gathering the pieces together.  “Even Charles only ever won because I let him.”

“You’ll have to tell me more about him sometime,” she sighed thoughtfully. “He meant a lot to you, didn’t he?”

He paused. “More than you could ever know, dear one.”

\-----

Ororo was seventeen when Erik suffered his first…episode.

He’d only just risen out of bed, and was headed for the closet when he suddenly couldn’t breathe. It felt like a two-ton elephant was asleep on his chest.  He couldn’t even gather enough breath to yell for help.  His chest was full of needles, on fire.  And his left arm…his left arm was agony.  _Is this how it happens? Dying in my pajamas on the floor of my room?_ He thought as he fell to his knees.

Jean heard him. She always heard him.  When he first felt a weak, tentative mental touch he was startled.  And more than a little angry.  Those thoughts were meant only for Charles.  But the girl couldn’t help her secondary mutation.  Erik knew this, and after that first time, he tried to be more accommodating.  Tried, but didn’t often succeed.  On the day of the…episode, he was more than a little grateful for her abilities.

She found him and brought him to Hank as quickly as possible.

Heart disease, Hank told him later. Uncommon, but not entirely unheard of in a man his age.  His heart was weakening more each day.  Unless something drastic happened, it would one day just…give out.  Erik took this news calmly.  Ororo, at his side clasping one of his hands, had burst into tears.

She stayed close to him after that. Like she had when she was ten.  It was as if those seven years had faded away, leaving her a scared little girl again, who was terrified of losing her Papa.  But this couldn’t last.  Erik saw the way Kurt watched them together.  He was nearly eleven, and his infatuation with Ororo had only grown stronger over the years.  As a man keenly aware of the importance of love, and now the shortness of life, Erik encouraged Ororo to spend more time with her friends.

“Live now, liebchen. I’m not leaving you yet,” he said with a gentle smile.  It takes time, but eventually she smiles back again.  Every night, she and Jean helped him into bed.  He slept, and dreamed of Charles.

\-------

When Ororo was twenty-six, Erik suffered his last episode. He felt it for days beforehand.  But they had known for some time what to expect.  It seemed too soon, but it wouldn’t be long now.

 _Jean_ , he projected. _It’s time, dear one_.

Not a moment later Kurt, Ororo, and Jean teleported into his room. One of many talents Kurt received from his father.  The three of them (their names forever echoing in Erik’s hollow heart as ‘the children’, even though they were anything but now) gathered around his bedside.  Erik could think of no other people he’d rather spend his last few minutes with.

“Papa-Erik,” Ororo choked out. She’d never been one to hold back her emotions, and her tears fell freely down the sides of her face.  He reached a shaking hand up to brush them away.  Outside, the rain had begun to drizzle.

“Now now, maus, we knew this day was coming.”

“But it’s too soon!” She nearly wailed.

Jean burst into tears and put her head in her hands.

“I wanted more time, Papa-Erik!” Ororo continued.  “I wanted you to teach me so much more.  I wanted you to see my children…”

“And I will,” he said, observing her and Kurt’s still clasped hands with a knowing smile. “Don’t think of death as the end, liebchen.  Only think of it as a new beginning.  The start of something greater.  Where one door closes, another opens.”

He looked at each of them fondly. And realized something strange and remarkable. _I can’t bear to leave them_.  A part of him wanted desperately to fight, to ignore this pain, to live.

            _You have to let it go._

_Please, Erik.  Calm your mind._

“Papa-Erik?” Ororo noticed tears beginning to trickle from the corners of his eyes. His breathing slowed…slowed…slowed.

“Papa!” She cried out and grabbed his hand.

He exhaled his last shallow breath. It was a name.

_Charles._

\-------

It’s the strangest sensation Erik has ever felt. He’d always felt an affinity for metal.  Par for the course with his unique abilities.  But now…now it felt as if he WAS the metal.  Like a piece of him existed in every bit of metal he could sense.  And, incredibly enough, he could feel metal just about everywhere.  In every corner of the world.  It was warm.  Familiar.  Like an old friend.

_Old friend._

He felt a tendril of power curl itself around his mind.

“Charles…?” He wasn’t speaking, having no mouth to do so anymore.  It was more of a thought.  A projection.  Still getting the feel for this newfound consciousness.

Just like it had been for years in his dreams, to Erik’s amazement, Charles was suddenly there. Right there in his arms, as if he always had been.  And the older man couldn’t help but wonder how long this vision would last.

“As long as you want it to, love,” Charles responded to his unspoken question. Erik hadn’t realized how much he had truly missed that calming voice in his head.

“Does that mean…” Erik hesitated. He thought of Ororo, of Jean, of the rest of the children.

“I’m sorry, Erik.” Charles cupped the back of his neck – a painfully familiar gesture.  “It was your time.”

Dead, then.

“I know how much they meant to you,” the telepath was still speaking, “but it was something beyond your cont-”

Erik crushed their lips together, effectively cutting off Charles’ justification. There was no need for it.  As much as he would miss the children, this, _this_ was what he had wanted.  What he’d been waiting almost thirty years for.  No more dreams.  No more longing.  He had Charles.  Everything else was a secondary consideration.  Too soon Charles pulled back slightly.

“I missed you too, my friend. All those days spent dreaming…”  He trailed off.  “I was there, you know.”  On Erik’s quizzical look, he clarified.  “I was with you.  In spirit, or some such thing.”

“In…spirit?” Erik was slightly confused.  _If we’re supposed to be spirits, then what is this place? What are we doing here?_

Charles smiled. “This?  This is just something I put together.  To ease your transition in a way.  The reality is…hard to explain.  Better to demonstrate.”  Erik gave him a wicked smirk.

“Try me.”

In an instant, Erik was grateful for Charles’ thoughtfulness in ‘easing the transition.’ If he had experienced this right from the start, he might have gone mad from the revelation.  It was as if his consciousness, himself, wasn’t him anymore.  It expanded out, over everything.  He _knew_ everything.  The mystery of the universe, human nature, even the tiniest of life’s intricacies were plain to him now.  The knowledge was overwhelming.

But something held him in place. Tied him to a sense of reality.

Another consciousness twined itself to him. And it felt like home.  Felt like two pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle finally coming together.

“Charles.” Every thing in him, every molecule, every modicum, sighed with contentment at the contact.  Completion.  Erik never wanted to be parted from him ever again.

“And you won’t have to be,” that beloved voice spoke in his mind. If he had the ability, Erik might’ve sobbed with relief.

“We have all eternity to spend together, Erik.”

Ah, eternity. Such a beautiful word.

“What would you like to do first?”

Erik’s response was to pull Charles close. Closer than he would’ve thought possible.  So close there was no telling where one stopped and the other began. _This is the way it should’ve always been_ , he thought.

“Nothing. Everything.  I don’t care.  I have you, liebling.  Nothing else matters.”  He did his best to project this into Charles’ mind.  That which he still couldn’t say.  Love, completion, affection, calmness, how much he adored him.  How much he thought the sun and moon paled in comparison to his smile.  How much he never wanted to be away from him again, even for a moment.

“Erik…” Charles’ voice was heavy with emotion.

 _I mean every single word_ , Erik thought.  Charles smiled, quite a feat for someone without a physical body anymore.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Erik smiled back.

~~~~~~~~~~

  
 _“I need the light_  
 _I’ll find my way from wrong_  
 _What’s real?_  
 _The dream I see”_

**Pearl Jam** – Low Light

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please comment and let me know.
> 
> Got a tumblr? If you want, you can follow me [right here!](http://roosterbox.tumblr.com/)


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